


101 - Bright Ginger Hair

by storiesaboutvan



Category: Catfish and the Bottlemen (Band)
Genre: Cute meet, F/M, Fluff, Hero Van, Reader-Insert, body pos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-16
Updated: 2019-01-16
Packaged: 2019-10-10 22:43:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17434862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/storiesaboutvan/pseuds/storiesaboutvan
Summary: Filling the prompt “Could you possibly do a fic where the reader has bright ginger hair but Van loves it?”





	101 - Bright Ginger Hair

The beer splashed from the glass and ran over your arm and hand. Moving quick enough to not have it fall on your dress, you were still unimpressed. You looked over at the person that had bumped into you. He had his back to you and was talking to his friends. There was a group of them; drunk guys all there to be seen rather than to hear live music. It was an assumption, given, but you were probably right. One of the friends had red hair that was almost fluorescent. His skin was pale, and his freckles were splashed across his face like a galaxy. He could have been your twin.

"It's fuckin' still of scientific debate as to if gingers even have souls," the one that bumped into you said. His voice was void of kindness, and even though he was joking with his friend, you knew it probably still hurt the red haired boy. It hurt you. You turned back to your friend; she was leaning over the bar picking up napkins to help dry your arm. Making eye contact, she nodded, looking over at the guys. You could both hear their conversation as it escalated. Amara flicked her head in the direction of your table, and you followed her back to the safety of your friends. They would never 'joke' about your hair because they knew how bullied you were through school for it.

After the bands played the crowds thinned a little. It was easier to see across the room. You and your friends surveyed for babes; there were some strong contenders. You accidentally made eye contact with a guy sitting on a couch near the pool table. One of his legs was folded across the other; ankle sitting on his other leg's thigh. He wore black jeans and a black button-up, and he almost camouflaged against the couch. His brown hair was unremarkable, similar to other haircuts in the room. He was pretty, but whatever it was that kept drawing your eyes to him was hard to pinpoint. As his blue eyes met yours, he smiled and you gave a half smile and looked away quickly.

A little later you were back at the bar buying another round. Someone came and stood next to you, close enough that you had no choice but to look up. For a split second you thought maybe it was the guy in black. Always unlucky though, it was not. It was the boy that bumped into you before. He obviously didn't know he'd done it though. He smiled at you and said hello. You sighed, to which he was not dismayed, and said hi back.

"So, uh, I just saw you up 'ere and thought you would make a good match for my friend," he spoke while trying not to laugh. You knew what 'joke' was coming. Your head tilted to the side, watching him with disgust. When you failed to reply, he kept going. "Like, you know how when people start to look like their girlfriends or boyfriends? Yeah, you'd already be at that stage. It would be so funny."

You felt another person stand at the bar behind you, and your skin went cold. You hoped to fucking God it was a complete stranger, and not one of the fuckhead's friends. You looked around to try to see how close Amara and your own friends were; if they were watching. When your head turned away from the boy he clicked his fingers in front of your face.

"Don't fucking click at me," you said.

"Woah, woah, calm down. Don't think you should be so rude. Not very lady like,"

"Not lady like? I'll show you not lady like, mate, if you don't fuck off," you spat back.

"You're a fuckin' ginger. Just trying to hook you up with my mate. Shouldn’t be so fucking picky," he said with a raised voice. A twinkle in his eye told you he fed off conflict and hurting people, and you were buying into it. So, you went to walk away but the person behind you moved to your side. The breeze of their movement was cool against your arm. 

"Mate, I think you're the one that needs to calm down. Take a breath, yeah. Then apologise to her," the guy in black said. You looked at him and his sharp jawline. He was even prettier close up.

"Who the fuck are you? Mind you own business, you fuckin' hipster twat,"

"I'm Van. I was minding my own business, see, but then you had to go and pick a fight with someone on my one night off. So, I'm makin’ it my business," Van said. He turned and smiled at you, and you smiled back. The boy looked from you to him, probably deciding if he could take Van. To be honest, he could. He was built and you could imagine him watching himself aggressively lift weights in the gym mirror. Van was as pasty as you and looked like he wrote poetry for a living.

"Boys!" a security guard said, appearing from somewhere. "Are we good?" he asked.

"I am," Van said. "Sweetheart?" he directed at you, while he wrapped an arm around your shoulders.

"I'm good," you replied, staring the boy across from you directly in the eyes. He backed up, uncomfortable under the public scrutiny.

"Mate?" the security guard said to the boy. He walked off, mumbling about your hair still. The guard nodded a goodbye and left. Van unhooked himself from you and held a hand out.

"Nice to meet you. I'm Van,"

"Y/N. Thanks… for that,"

"Hope you don't mind. Seems like you can handle yourself. Just didn’t want things to get out of hand, you know?" he said.

"Yeah. No. Guys like that only really respond to other men. It was probably good you stepped in. Thank you,"

"You're welcome," he replied with a tip of his head. "I really like your hair," he started to say as he stepped back up to the bar. The bartender came over and Van ordered beers, then pointed at you.

"No, it's alright, I'll get-"

"Don't be silly, love. What will you have?" You accepted the offer and let him buy you a beer. "Anyway, yeah, I like your hair because it's like Karen Gillan's. Do you know her? She's an actress. She was in Dr Who, but I saw her in We'll Take Manhattan, and that's one of my favourite films now. Have you seen it? She was already pretty famous but then she did them Avengers films or whatever, but it hard to tell that was her. Still dead beautiful, even like that." When he stopped talking he looked at you. You weren't sure if he actually wanted answers to his questions. He'd asked so many that they almost seemed rhetorical. He grinned wide. "Sorry," he apologised, realising that he rambled.

"You really like Karen Gillan. She is a babe,"

"It's not even like that. She's just glorious, you know? But, my point is, love, that you look like her. 'Cause of your hair," Van said, smirking a little, pretending to not know what that implied. You were glorious too. The bartender put the bottles on the bar. Van had three; two for friends.

"I'll let you get back to your friends," you said pointing to the bottles, then holding up yours. "Thanks again,"

"Wait," Van said as you stepped away from the bar. "I was actually coming over here to buy you a drink anyway, before I heard that guy picking on you," he waited for you to say something, but you didn't, you just watched him. "Okay, so, let me just give these to the lads, then I'll be right back?" You thought for a second. There was a chain around his neck and you wanted to ask about the pendant hanging from it. You wanted to know if he did write poetry. You wanted to watch him lick his lips again; he'd done it twice or thrice. Before you'd even made one full nod of the head he was off. Amara quickly took his place and you wondered how close she'd been lingering.

"Who's that? Who was the other guy? Why'd security come over? What's all this draaaaahhhhhh-mahhhhhhhh?"

"I'll tell you later. Van's coming back. You have to go," you said, trying to shoo her away.

"Oh, Van, is it?" she laughed.

"Amara. Fuck off. Quick," you repeated with more force. Her teeth flashed white and she walked away backwards, sticking her tongue out at you.

Van was back and he led you to a small table in the corner of the bar. He asked you about music first, and given you were both there to see bands play, you had a lot in common. He told you about his band, and you smiled to yourself. Lyrics are poetry, so you were right. You wrote the name of his band into your phone and promised to listen. As you went to put your phone away he took it from you. He held it so you couldn't see the screen.

"What are you doing?"

"Putting my number in your phone," he said casually. You watched him take a selfie for the contact photo. He puffed his cheeks out, and you knew his eyelashes would take up half the fucking photo. He got his phone out and used yours to call his. "Now I have your number,"

"Sneaky. And presumptuous," you joked. He looked up and grinned.

Neither of you noticed as the bar started to empty. Van had his arms folded on the table and his head laid on top. It was lazy and casual and made you feel at ease, even though he was watching you intently. You were telling the story of how you met Amara in school. How she punched a boy in the face for being mean about the colour of your hair, and how she'd defend you always, even though she was fighting bigger battles about the colour of her skin. Halfway through the story you stopped when Van's smile distracted you.

"What?" you demanded. His head left his arms and he sat up.

"What? Nothing,"

"You're looking at me funny,"

"I'm just… It's a good story. She sounds like a dead good friend. Love just kind of pours off you," he said, shrugging. You gave him a sceptical look. "I like listening to you talk. You're just… real fucking beautiful."

You looked away and tried to not laugh. You sucked in your bottom lip and turned back to Van. He was being sincere. You had a feeling it was the only way he knew how to be. She appeared then, Amara.

"I'm so sorry to interrupt… but it's like… two in the morning?"

You and Van looked around. It was an almost empty room. Van's friends were still on the couch. One of the bands that had played were with them. You couldn't see the rest of your friends. You told Amara you'd meet her out front. You'd been sitting with Van for hours and it felt like ten minutes. You stood up, and Van followed.

"Thank you, again, for before… and the drinks," you said. He waved it off.

"Not a problem. So… I'll call you, yeah?" he asked and there was cute hopefulness in his voice that meant he thought there was a possibility you didn't want him to. There was not a fucking world where you'd not get a crush on him, so he had nothing to worry about. You nodded and smiled. He pulled you into a hug and held you tight. His hands ran up and down your back and it sent shivers across your body. You would have let him kiss you if he'd tried.

Outside Amara was leaning against a streetlight. You took her hand and started to walk down the road. You began to tell her about him, about what happened, when you heard Van calling after you, running. He stood in front of you and Amara.

"Hey," he said to her.

"Hi," she replied. You looked from her to him.

"Uh, that was a moment, wasn’t it?" he asked you. You tilted your head in confusion. "I could have kissed you?" He felt it too. Amara giggled and you shook her hand to make her stop.

"I… uh… don't know how to answer that?"

Van grinned, stepped close, and kissed you on the lips. Your bodies stayed apart, and you didn't let Amara's hand go. It was quick but warm. He stepped back, grinned again, and nodded to himself. "Okay. Fuck. I'm going to love you, I can tell. Alright. Goodnight!" and he walked away. You stood stunned.

"I'm going to love you?!" Amara echoed. She laughed and started to walk again, dragging you by the hand. You looked back. Van was out the front of the bar with his friends, now holding a lit cigarette. He watched you walk away, and you gave him a little wave. He winked, then disappeared inside.


End file.
